


A Very Rarepair Holiday: NSFW Edition

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cannon, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Rarepair, the metodey one doesn't have sex but he's never not NSFW, too many different things to try to list them all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21957001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: These are fics for my friends in the FE3H rarepair discord server. These brilliant bastards have some wild pairs they enjoy and I wanted to write as many of them as possible as a small holiday gift. There is also a SFW collection.Chapter 1: Ashe and Annette (anon)Chapter 2: Caspar, Ashe and Linhardt (TsarAlek)Chapter 3: Catherine and Rhea (Mimi)Chapter 4: Dimitri and Hilda (Innocent Cowboy Maiden)Chapter 5: Metodey... just Metodey (Char)Chapter 6: Rodrigue and F!Byleth (Bia)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Caspar von Bergliez/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Linhard von Hevring, Catherine/Rhea (Fire Emblem), Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 21
Kudos: 86





	1. Ashe/Annette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette comes up for reasons for her and Ashe to study together, but it's not books she has in mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This request was by Anon. Whoever you are, I hope you like it!

It started with magic. Never hurt to have a little healing in your kit, Annette had said, even if it was just the basics. 

It soon progressed to horsemanship, cooking, strategy, literature, history, arithmetic. Anything stupid subject Annette could think to propose.

But every time Ashe accepted, every time he agreed to waste time studying something of little use in the war tearing the continent apart, Annette's rush of joy was quickly chased by crushing shyness.

 _Stupid,_ she told herself. It had been five years. Her heart shouldn't still skip every time she saw him; her blood shouldn't still rush to her cheeks to make her blush like a kid.

“Did that make sense?” Ashe said. His soft voice called her from her thoughts, gentle as a breeze but bright as a beacon. She always turned to follow it, whether he spoke from right beside her, as he did now, or from across the entire ruined monastery. 

“Annette,” he said. “Did my explanation make any sense?”

“Oh,” she said. Goddess, she hadn't even been listening. His voice was so soothing, like a warm tide lapping at her ankles.

“I-I'm so sorry,” she said. “I... wasn't really listening.” 

She rang her hands together, fighting down the blush crawling up her neck. 

Ashe's laugh startled her. He tried to muffle it behind his hands but the sound squeezed out, tiny tinkling bells ringing around her. 

“I said sorry,” she snapped.

“I'm not making fun of you,” Ashe said. “It's just really funny.” He set his textbook aside. “Maybe we ought to forget the books for the evening.” 

Annette tossed her textbook on the floor. “Yeah, I guess I just can't seem to focus tonight.”

“Is anything wrong?” Ashe said. 

He tilted his head as he looked at her and it was all Annette could do to meet his gaze. Five years had carved the boyish curves out of his face, making it leaner, stronger, more mature. A field of freckles still brushed his cheeks and his eyes were still as bright as jade in the sunlight. But five years of maturing had only made him more handsome in Annette's eyes. She'd hoped maybe time would have dulled her crush, but the moment she'd seen him again, laughing across the courtyard at the monastery, taller and leaner, her heart had leapt up into her throat and choked all thought and sense from her. 

“Annette?” Ashe prodded.

She shook her head. Oh goddess, she was really making a fool of herself this time.

She yelped when he put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Annette, you look feverish. Are you sure everything's alright?”

He was closer now, concern softening those clear eyes. She could see the thick lashes framing them, could smell the mint ever on his breath, and the blush burned up to the tips of her ears.

His eyes widened. “Are you... blushing?”

Annette buried her face in her hands. “Oh goddess,” she cried into her palms. “This is so embarrassing.”

He tugged at her wrists but she refused to move her hands. “Annette, it's OK.”

“It's not. Merciful Seiros, you must think I'm horrible, luring you here to study and then not even pretending to be interested in the books. I'm the worst.”

“Annette.”

“Just the worst. The absolute, gods damned--”

“Annette,” he snapped and finally she peered between her fingers. “I like you too,” he said. 

Gods damn him, how could he smile so casually and easily while saying something like that? “You do?”

He scrubbed at his hair. “Geeze, I kinda thought it was obvious. I felt pretty self-conscious about it, to be honest. You really couldn't tell?”

She shook her head, but it wasn't that she couldn't tell so much as she refused to believe that the lovely creature beside her could possibly be interested in _her_ of all people. 

“Annette,” he said, gently tugging her hands down to expose her face. “I'd like very much to kiss you, if you don't mind.”

Annette suddenly found it difficult to suck in a full breath. “OK.” 

“OK?” 

“Y... yeah.” 

He hesitated, touching her shoulders awkwardly, like they were kids at a dance. His mouth hung open, his freckles lit by a blush. 

Annette couldn't stand it another moment. She reached for his shirt, yanking him down to her mouth, drinking in the little noise of surprise he uttered as she kissed him at long last. He was cool mint and warm chocolate, a burst of freshness and an encompassing warmth, like steam curling off tea to caress her face. His hands tightened on her shoulders, growing more confident the longer she pressed her mouth to his. Annette dared probe at his lips and he let her inside, where she licked at the roof of his mouth and got a delicious quiver for her efforts. He cooed against her and she swallowed the sound, holding it in her chest. 

She hardly realized she was pushing him backward until she heard the bed creak under them. All she knew was that she wanted more, wanted deeper into his mouth and his embrace. Ashe's hands glided from her shoulders to her back, shuffling over the dip in her back to rest at her hips just above her ass. The soft pressure of his fingers tinged nerves that sizzled through her entire abdomen, an ache coaxed to the fore by his touch. 

He cupped her face, putting the space of a breath between them. “Annette,” he said. It was a confession and a question all in one and she nodded before he could go on, her hand already sneaking down, fumbling for the waistband of his pants. 

His eyes widened when she found it and rubbed over the bulge between them. She chewed at her lip. She knew she was going fast, maybe too fast, but now that the tension that had built brick by agonizing brick between them over the years had finally shattered, she found she couldn't wait even one more moment. With a flick, her hand was under his pants and rubbing along his hard length. 

Annette gasped. His cock wasn't anything out of the ordinary, wasn't the first she'd touched even, but finally feeling it, from the bead of pre-cum already at the tip to the hard ridge running to the base, shocked her into the reality of the moment. She wrapped her fingers around it and stroked. Ashe squeezed his eyes shut in response, arching up into her hold. And goddess, it was so satisfying, so very lovely and satisfying to have him in her palm like this, softly panting and pink as sunset. She loved being over him, guiding him, teasing him, promising him more with just the brush of her fingers along his cock. 

He flipped them abruptly, so abruptly she squeaked in surprise. He chuckled, kissing her swiftly. “Cute,” he murmured. Then his mouth was trailing down, even as his hands hiked up her dress to expose her thighs. 

He buried his head between her legs and soon she felt his mouth against her, over her undergarments at first, cruelly teasing, then on her pussy, licking along it, probing for the places that made her whimper and squirm. He found them easily, as though all her weaknesses lay mapped out before him. Ashe dove in eagerly, lapping at her clit, letting a finger swirl around the wetness at her entrance. He threatened at pushing the finger inside and she clutched at his hair.

“Goddess, Ashe, stop teasing or I'll die,” she whined. 

Finally, he relented, pushing a finger into her. She pulled on his hair so hard he whimpered, but his tongue never stopped working. Her clit felt battered about as though in a storm, a perfect, intoxicating storm that surged up through her body, promising to blast past the dams she'd built within her over the years. Annette had never believed she'd have him, and now that she did, now that his finger was pumping inside her and his tongue was licking at her pussy, it was all she'd imagined and more. 

He got a second finger inside and she arched away from the bed. It was only two fingers. She'd had plenty more. So why did they hit everything inside her so perfectly? Why did every curl of his digits seem to find some new ache within her and release it like a lock deftly picked? 

“Oh, fuck, Ashe,” she gasped. “Ashe, you're so good. You're so good at that.” 

“I know,” he murmured. And somehow that soft, confident, low rasp at her clit was what ignited the tinder waiting so long within her. Waiting for him, she knew now. 

She thought, distantly, somehow, as she floated out of her body, as a release years in the making finally swept her out of herself and left her trembling in his arms, that it had been well worth the wait. 

When she could, she shrugged out of his embrace. 

“That was incredible,” she said.

He smiled. “I'm glad.”

She jerked out of his hold, swinging over him and caging him in with her arms. “Now you,” she said with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	2. Caspar/Ashe/Linhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt and Ashe can't believe it when they learn Caspar is a virgin. They aim to change that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for TsarAlek, my unofficial partner in my crusade to make the world love Ashelix! You are so nice and it's been wonderful getting to know you. I know you love this trio, so I hope you enjoy this silly little scene I threw them in. And keep spreading the good word! We'll convince them all some day haha

“Wait, you've never... Not even once... Not even... at all?” Ashe said.

Caspar covered his face in his hands, shaking his head. He was red to the tips of his ears.

“You've got to be joking,” Linhardt drawled. “Caspar, seriously. I can't have known you all my life and never realized you were such an innocent maiden.”

“I'm not--” Caspar started, but shouting forced him to remove his hands from his face, revealing the unsightly shade of crimson it had gone. 

Ashe patted his hand. “It's nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Disagree,” Linhardt muttered.

“Have you... wanted to?” Ashe said.

Caspar nodded.

“It's really nothing to be so worried about,” Ashe said. “You just need to find someone you like and who likes you back and then it'll happen on its own. There's no need to rush.” He glared at Linhardt. “And don't let anyone bully you into doing anything you don't want to or don't feel ready for. That's _not_ OK.”

Linhardt shrugged. “I was just teasing.”

Ashe shook his head. “You're going to make him feel bad.”

“He'll survive.” 

“What if he thinks you're serious?”

Caspar sat back while they bickered, watching their playful argument. Realization dawned on him like a fist to the face. “Wait... you two...”

Their argument cut off abruptly. Pink stole into Ashe's cheeks; Linhardt just smirked. 

“When? What? How?” Questions tumbled out of Caspar. “Lin, how could you not even tell me?”

Linhardt shrugged. 

“All this time, I thought I was the weird one,” Caspar mused, “and you two were off boinking.” 

“It's Ashe doing most of the 'boinking,' if you must know,” Linhardt said. “But yes.” 

This time it was Ashe with his head in his hands, crimson prickling the tops of his ears. “It's really... it's not...” Ashe stuttered.

“Listen, if you want in, all you have to do is ask,” Linhardt said. 

“Want in?” Caspar said. He and Ashe shared a wide-eyed glance. Now, it was only Linhardt who didn't look like a tea kettle about to boil over. 

“What?” Linhardt said. “It's just sex.”

“Linhardt, you can't just invite him,” Ashe said.

“Why not?” 

“What if he doesn't want to?” Ashe said. “What if you just made him even more shy?”

“I want to.” Caspar gulped at the sound of his own voice. Merciful gods, had he really just sad that? From the smug look on Linhardt's face, he knew the outburst had been unfortunately, painfully real.

“Swell,” Linhardt said. 

“S-s-swell?” Ashe said. “Are you serious?”

“What's the problem?” Linhardt said. “You're hot. He's hot. Seems simple enough to me.” 

“Yeah? And how do you even propose we... we...” Ashe couldn't seem to find the words to finish his thoughts.

“First of all, you have to stop talking,” Linhardt said. He leaned across the bed, silencing Ashe's protests with his mouth. Caspar could only watch in growing horror as Linhardt stretched over him, kissing Ashe until his weak protests turned to contented moans. 

They broke apart and Caspar slapped his hands over his crotch. Linhardt smirked. He tugged at Caspar's wrists. “It's OK, Cas. That was the _point_.”

Caspar looked to Ashe for help, but he was red-faced and panting, watching Linhardt like a dog waiting for a treat. 

Caspar jerked when he felt Linhardt's hand glide over the bulge in his pants. Caspar pushed back against the wall, the feel of Linhardt's hand almost too much for him to take. Even through his pants, it was just so different from his own hand, so different from all the times he'd pleasured himself. Pretending or using his off-hand just didn't have the same impact as a real live person doing it for him. 

Linhardt was close to Caspar's face, his breath cool against Caspar's hot cheeks. “Do you want me to keep going? You can say no.” 

“No,” he said. “I mean, yes. I...”

“Which is it?”

Caspar gulped. “I want you to keep going.”

Linhardt backed away. For a moment, Caspar was left confused, then Linhardt pulled Ashe's forward, guiding his hand to Caspar's crotch. Ashe's hand snuck down Caspar's pants and gripped his cock. Caspar gasped. Despite appearances, Ashe certainly wasn't shy or timid as he pumped his hand up and down Caspar's length. 

“Is that good?” Linhardt said, sitting beside him, his tongue tickling Caspar's ear. The subtle sensation sent shudders through Caspar, somehow matching and echoing the pulsing of his cock in Ashe's sure, deft hand. 

“Yeah,” he whimpered. 

“Do you want more?” Linhardt said.

 _More? Gods, how much more was there?_ But he found himself nodding all the same. 

“Ashe, would you?” Linhardt said. 

Ashe nodded and started stripping Caspar, then himself. Linhardt was already nude by the time Caspar could realize what was happening. He'd jumped off the bed to stride across the room and now returned with a bottle of lube that he was squeezing into his palm.

“W... what are you...” Caspar managed.

“Don't worry,” Linhardt said. “No boinking for you. Not your very first time.” He rubbed the lube between his hands, then reached a hand behind himself and started prodding at his own ass. “This is for me.” 

Caspar felt his cock quiver against his belly. Linhardt smiled as he massaged his own hole. Ashe rose to stand behind him, kissing at Linhardt's bare shoulders, his hand sneaking down to help prepare him. Linhardt looked utterly unflappable, tall and lean, bold in his nakedness. Caspar had never realized just how slender he was. Ashe was strong from archery despite his size, but Linhardt was all smooth, slim lines of milky skin. 

“That'll do,” Linhardt said. His voice had roughed as Ashe prepared him. 

He approached the bed, pushing Caspar back. Linhardt kissed Caspar swiftly, a soft, gentle urging. Caspar relaxed under the warmth of Linhardt's lips, aching for more when Linhardt drew away. “I'm going to suck your cock while he fucks me,” Linhardt said. “OK?”

Caspar blinked rapidly. “O... OK.” 

With a final smirk, Linhardt trailed down Caspar's body. He tossed waves of thick green hair over to one side as he took Caspar's cock in his hand and licked at the head. Even with Linhardt's lips against his dick, Caspar reached for the silky ribbons of green splayed against the bed sheets, rubbing a sheaf of strands through his fingers as Linhardt lowered his whole mouth over Caspar's cock. 

Caspar was still gripping Linhardt's hair, but his eyes squeezed shut, his head arching back as Linhardt's lips slid down his length. Linhardt glided down, slow and teasing, then drew back up just as languorously. Linhardt added his tongue, flicking it out as he worked up and down, up and down. 

“Lin, please,” Caspar moaned. He was clutching to the hair in his hand, his body threatening to shatter if Linhardt continued taunting him like this. 

“Mmm,” Linhardt moaned against his cock, the noise rumbling through Caspar's torso. 

Linhardt's movements became strange, stuttering. His head pushed forward and back; he kept making tiny little noises in his throat that echoed inside Caspar.

Caspar forced his eyes open to see Ashe positioned behind Linhardt, a hand on Linhardt's back as he pushed into him. Linhardt moaned from Ashe's thrust, even as he continued working Caspar's cock with his hand and mouth. 

“Holy shit,” Caspar breathed. 

Even just watching the scene before him might have been enough. Linhardt rolled his hips and whimpered; Ashe's silver hair splashed over his face as he panted and pushed into Linhardt, grasping his hip. 

Caspar gasped as his body hitched. This--this was a feeling he knew. 

“Oh no,” he gasped. “Lin--”

But that was all he had time for before his whole body went rigid and he came right into Linhardt's mouth. 

Linhardt didn't react except to let Caspar's cock fall out of his mouth, pressing his head against Caspar's torso as Ashe picked up speed. In a few more furious thrusts, Ashe cried out and Linhardt came onto Caspar's stomach.

They collapsed in a heap, Ashe and Linhardt still panting from exertion while Caspar's head spun. They were both so lovely with the flush of passion still in their cheeks, silver and green hair askew. 

Finally, Linhardt remembered Caspar beneath him. “A little warning next time,” he said.

“N--next time?” Caspar said.

Linhardt simply smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	3. Catherine/Rhea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea calls Catherine to her chambers with a very special request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Mimi! I loved writing these two so I hope you enjoy as well.

“Lady Rhea, you summoned me?” 

Catherine stepped reverently into Lady Rhea's personal chambers. She'd only seen this place once before, when the monastery itself was under attack. Her heart sank imagining all that Lady Rhea had built being under threat once again. 

Rhea reclined beside her tall glass windows, her hair a loose tumble of sea foam down her back, splashing against the white of the simple shift she wore. A couple candles lit the room, but they provided little more than a flicker against the pitch darkness of the night. 

Catherine shifted her feet. There was no one else in the room. She saw no papers on the desk or maps spread out on the floor. If it weren't for the way the moonlight left a silvery outline along her sleek body, Rhea might have been an ordinary woman in an ordinary room.

But Rhea was anything but ordinary, especially to Catherine's eyes. 

“I have a task for you,” Rhea said. 

“Anything, my lady,” Catherine said.

Rhea's smile smothered the laughter behind her lips. She nodded toward her bed, a regal four poster with red gauze draped over it like sheer feathers. A box sat atop the bed. Catherine approached cautiously, confused, and slowly opened the lid. Inside lay a long object unlike anything Catherine had ever seen. And yet... and yet she immediately knew what the sleek, oblong shape was meant for. 

She startled when she realized Rhea was standing beside her. “I want you to wear it, Catherine.”

“Wear it?”

Rhea removed it from the box and Catherine saw that there was a harness attached. Rhea held it up before her and Catherine blanched at the lewdness of the artificial cock. 

“I want you to fuck me, Catherine,” Lady Rhea said in the same voice she used to issue commands around the monastery. 

“My lady...” 

“Please,” she said. Her authority broke, want fracturing her voice. 

Catherine was never one to disobey. She started to disrobe, getting out of the heavy clothing she tended to wear around Garreg Mach. Rhea simply observed, her emerald eyes cool as mint. She appraised Catherine's naked, muscled body, watching as the candles and stars splashed against her strong arms, thick thighs and toned stomach. 

It was a clumsy business getting into the harness, but Catherine eventually sorted out the straps and buckles. She looked down and found it surprisingly gratifying to see that long, thick thing coming from _her_. She ran a hand down it, stroking as though it was an extension of her own body. 

“It suits you.” Lady Rhea's voice was like a breath of night air wafting through the window. It sent a shiver down Catherine. 

Her master kneeled, pulling Catherine forward by her hips, and started running her hand down the dildo. Pools of shimmering emerald gazed up at Catherine as Rhea inserted the cock into her mouth. She never broke that awful eye contact, fixing Catherine with deadly focus as she licked and sucked. 

Catherine gasped as though Rhea's mouth was on her own body. She could feel the reverberations of Rhea's efforts in her hips, in her pussy. Rhea gripped the cock with one hand, but her other hand strayed up Catherine's thigh, tickling into the delicate skin between groin and hip. 

The cock sprang out of Rhea's mouth with a wet pop. She licked the residue of her own spit off the tip before rising. 

Catherine felt small as a bug beneath Rhea's gaze. This was a look she'd never seen in all her time serving her lady, a look blazing like the sun beating down through a cloudless sky. Rhea ran her tongue along her lips and Catherine felt heat billow between her legs. 

Rhea stepped away, tossing aside the thin shift she'd been wearing. She was naked beneath, slender and pale as a willow branch with the moonlight bathing her skin. She lay on her bed, beckoning Catherine forward with one crooked finger. That finger may as well have been a chain for how quickly Catherine rushed to obey. 

Catherine perched over Rhea on the bed. Her eyes followed a flicker of motion. Rhea bit her lip as she massaged her pussy, then reached up to grab the cock. As she pumped, something slick coated the dildo, making it glisten. 

“I'm ready,” Rhea said. It was a whisper, a plea, but it might as well have been a thunderclap for how it struck Catherine in the chest and shook her to her core. 

She lowered, angling the slick dildo at Rhea's entrance. She felt the heat of Rhea's pussy when her fingers brushed it. Catherine had to hold herself back from licking the taste from her skin immediately. 

Rhea helped guide the dildo the rest of the way, arching as the head pushed past her entrance. Catherine paused, unwilling, perhaps unable, to go further, to violate her lady any deeper. Surely this was sacrilege. Surely, she'd be struck down any moment, cast away to the deepest pits of despair. 

But Rhea reached for Catherine's hip, pulling her forward, guiding the cock deeper into her. She gasped as it entered all the way to the straps around Catherine's hips and again Catherine froze, hovering over Rhea, watching the blush that bloomed in her face as her eyes fluttered shut. She was no longer cool emerald and stoic moonlight; now, Rhea was the soft red of rose petals, the tenuous pink of light seeping into the sky to chase away the night and burn dew off the grass. Catherine could do little more than gaze upon her flushed face in worshipful awe. 

Again, Rhea moved for her, rolling her hips, pushing her feet into the mattress to gain leverage. Finally, Catherine started to roll with her, like a sailor trying to move with the waves rocking a ship. Soon, the motion was as natural as her gasping breaths. They rolled their hips against each other, their bodies like the silver crests of waves on a dark sea. 

“Oh, Catherine,” Rhea breathed. “Oh, how long I've thought about this.”

Catherine whimpered in response. How could this woman, this goddess below her possibly know longing? Catherine had dreamed sinfully of her naked body since the moment she'd met her, had pleasured herself to the heretical fantasy of things far tamer than what they did now. 

“I need more,” Rhea rasped. She pushed Catherine away and got the cock out of her, then propped up on all fours, her ass toward Catherine. “Hurry,” she panted.

Catherine couldn't resist running a hand along Rhea's pussy before she reentered her, though. The slickness, the quivering flesh, the featherlight softness of the hair and skin between her legs—they were beyond what Catherine ever managed to imagine on her own. 

She dove in with mouth and tongue first, needing a taste, may Rhea herself damn Catherine to some fiery pit for it. 

“Goddess,” she groaned as she licked the wetness from Rhea's pussy. It was divine, sharp and bright and fragrant, a taste that stuck in her nose as Catherine gulped it down, imprinting it into every inch of her body.

“Catherine, please,” Rhea moaned. “I can't take much more.”

Catherine relented, moving away to rise to her knees and shakily angle the cock at Rhea's entrance. It slipped in with little resistance this time and Rhea arched. 

“Seiros,” she called out.

Catherine grabbed her hips, need making her urgent as she plunged into Rhea. She had more leverage this way and she used every bit of it, pounding into Rhea with abandon. Rhea lost her ability to stay up on her hands; soon, her face was pushed into her pillows, her sweet moans muffled and muddled. 

Catherine could have sworn the cock was her own now. She could feel the tremors in Rhea's body; she could feel as Rhea clenched and tightened. It made her moan in response to Rhea's voice, wetness now slick on her own thighs. 

“Oh Catherine,” Rhea whimpered. “Oh goddess, I'm going to... to...”

Rhea convulsed around the cock, clenching tight. Catherine gasped, feeling her own body go rigid. She reached for Rhea's pussy, wanting-- _needing_ \--to feel the font of wetness that burst around the cock as Rhea shook and shuddered. Catherine popped a finger in her mouth, tasting her lady's sweetness as the tight coil within her finally snapped, releasing her at last. 

The dildo slid out of Rhea. Catherine hurriedly shimmied out of the harness and tossed the thing aside. Rhea lay face down on her bed, her hair like seaweed splayed around her. Catherine snuggled beside her, pulling her clammy body against Catherine's. She trailed kisses up her lady's shoulders as they both tried to catch their breath.

Eventually, they relaxed. A bone deep exhausted dragged Catherine down into what promised to be the most luxurious sleep of her life. 

Rhea reached up, stroking Catherine's hair. “Thank you, my knight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	4. Hilda/Dimitri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda is just trying to get some work done but Dimitri is intent on interrupting her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Innocent Cowboy Maiden. You wanted someone to take your DimiHilda and write some smut - well, here it is!

Dimitri crawled into bed, forcing his head into Hilda's lap. She sighed, moving her laptop to her knees so he could snuggle against her thighs. Her arms brushed his head as she continued typing.

“Long day?” she said.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “Why are you still working?”

“Because,” she said, slamming down the enter key, “I got a big order and I need to make sure it's right.” 

He lifted his head, blinking at the screen. She knew his eyesight wasn't great, especially in his right eye, and it took him a moment to make sense of her screen. 

“Hilda,” he gasped. “This order is massive.” 

“I know,” she said. “Matching bracelets for an entire girl scout troop. And necklaces for the graduating girls. I'm going to be working my fingers to the bone.” 

He sat up, all hints of exhaustion gone from his face. “This is incredible.”

Hilda shrugged. “Marianne has helped out with a lot of it. She practically built the site.”

“Hilda.” 

She stopped typing when he put a finger under her chin to turn her face toward him.

“I'm proud of you,” he said. “I know you try to play it off, but you've worked incredibly hard. You earned this.” 

She screwed up her lips. “Oh goddess, don't be gross, Dimi.” 

“I'm serious.”

“I know,” she said. She gave him a peck on the lips. “And it's _gross_.” 

“You like it,” he teased. 

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?” 

“Because,” he said, drawing her into a longer kiss. “You like me.” 

She set her laptop aside. “You're pretty confident in yourself.”

He yanked her into his lap and she yelped in surprise. “You could say that.” 

She clung to his shoulders, smirking down at him as he rubbed his hand over her ass. He squeezed as he reached the juiciest bits and she nibbled on her lip. 

“You're _distracting_ me,” she said. 

“I know,” he said. He hiked her closer, so her hips were against him, and smothered further complaints with a hungry kiss. 

_Yeah, definitely not tired anymore,_ Hilda thought as he rolled them around so she was on her back. Instantly he trailed down her body, grabbing at her clothes, kissing down her stomach, nipping at the protrusions at her hips. She gasped, tugging his hair even as he yanked her skirt down and tossed it across their bedroom. 

His mouth was ravenous on her pussy, his tongue almost too powerful as it lapped at her clit. 

“Oh fuck, Dimi,” she rasped. “I'm so wet already.” 

As though in response, his tongue strayed lower to taste the wetness at her entrance. 

She shoved him away. “Too much teasing,” she said, out of breath. 

He scrambled for the nightstand beside their bed, tearing open a condom with desperate urgency. He returned, but she pushed on his shoulders, keeping him at bay. 

“Not like that,” she said. “I want to get something first.” 

She leaned off the bed, scrabbling until she found the box beneath it. Hilda threw the box aside after extracting the toy within, a long wand with a soft rubber head. She plugged it into the wall and turned it on, teasingly flicking through a variety of pulsation settings. 

“Fuck, Hilda, please,” Dimitri moaned. 

“Goddess,” she said. “You're like a hungry animal. Be patient.” She got the wand on the setting they liked best, a stuttering, strong beat, then got on her hands and knees, wiggling her ass at Dimitri. “OK, you can--”

She hardly got the words out before she felt his cock rubbing against her, his hands grasping at her waist and hips. He eased inside her with a breathless “fuck,” hunching forward to kiss up the curve of her back as he started to move within her. 

“Yeah,” she said between breaths. “Yeah, that's good. Just like that.” 

She almost forgot the wand in the thrill of his thrusts. He had a habit of angling just right, of filling her in a way that scattered her thoughts and set her heart stuttering. Her hand trembled when she reached for the wand and for an instant she thought it might not be worth the extra effort. 

Dimitri took her hand, guiding the wand the rest of the way to her clit. 

They moaned in unison, the vibrations so strong they radiated through both of them. Hilda squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, stars bursting behind her vision. Dimitri's fingers dug into her skin with a pleasant jolt of pain. His cock moved furiously, his breath a gasp of heat prickling her back. 

His grunts changed, gaining volume. She knew the sound and pressed the wand harder against her clit to bring herself to her own release. Hilda rubbed the wand, yelping as it buzzed through her, shattering her tenuous tether to the ground. 

Dimitri came with a snarl; Hilda followed a beat later, cursing as a flood of warmth washed out of her body. 

They collapsed in a heap, the wand still vibrating somewhere on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	5. Metodey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metodey licks Edelgard's boots. And he likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Char has made me fall in love with a horrible weasel man and I had to write about him.

Her boots tasted like leather and dirt and blood. Metodey sucked the residue off his own lips before lowering his head to run his tongue along the sole of the shoe. He pushed into the groves, extracting each foul fleck of muck, the detritus of the enemies she'd stepped on or over during her glorious ascension to victory. It tasted like winning, like the pleas and whimpers of the fools who thought to impede Edelgard's path. He moaned as he swallowed down a mouthful of muck.

“Uh... and that's why... That's why...” 

“Lord Acheron,” Edelgard said, “please do continue.”

Acheron cleared his throat. Metodey could see the pompous idiot shifting from foot to foot as he struggled to look at Edelgard and not the creature groveling at her feet. 

“That's why,” he said, “why we request... your aid... to ah... um...”

“Lord Acheron,” Hubert said, “please do comport yourself as befits a guest of the emperor of Fodlan.”

Metodey nearly hissed. Hubert, that snake, that slithering shadow against the wall. He licked harder. Hubert thought he had Edelgard all to himself, but did he have _this_? Did he taste the defeat of her enemies on his tongue, bitter and dark and putrid? 

Edelgard sighed. Metodey flinched. Was he not doing a good job? Had he let his hatred of Hubert distract him from the worshipful task at hand?

“Metodey,” she said, and he thrilled at the trill of his name on her perfect lips. 

He paused his licking to look up at her from the floor. 

“Go greet our visitor,” she said.

He choked down a whine, but obeyed, crawling on hands and knees down the steps that led to her throne. His leash trailed behind him as he clambered toward the startled blond man watching him with wide eyes. 

Metodey sniffed at Acheron's boots. Leather and polish. They were practically shining. The unworthy creature hadn't so much as squashed a bug, let alone an entire continent. He was unfit to bask in his lady's presence.

“Metodey,” Edelgard said softly. 

He lowered his head and started licking at her command. There was little to clean from Acheron's boots, so he focused on just coating them completely, forcing his tongue into every groove and crevice. 

Acheron was stuttering above him, flinching away from Metodey's efforts. The more he struggled, the more he got wrapped up in Metoday's leash, however. When Acheron tried to step away, he dragged the cord with him, toppling backward. The leash yanked, choking Metodey. He gasped, thrashing on the floor to try to get free.

It was, incredibly, Hubert who saved him. 

“Well,” Hubert said, holding the untangled leash. He was smiling, never a good sign. Metodey wanted to bite his hand and free his leash. How dare the foul creature think he could touch that tether? That was Edelgard's to hold, Edelgard's to yank or tighten or set loose. 

Hubert leaned down, patting Metodey on the head. “Excellent work, Weasel,” he said. 

Metodey snarled, showing his teeth. 

Hubert straightened, looking utterly unphased. Metodey finally remembered Acheron, who now was sprawled on the floor and scrambling back. A knife lay beside him, a knife bearing the mark of the Leicester Alliance. 

“Guards,” Hubert said softly. 

Acheron's screams echoed down the hall as the guards hauled him away. Hubert picked up his once-hidden knife, sneering at the pathetic weapon. As though that could hope to harm the emperor. 

“Metodey,” Edelgard sang, and he rushed back to her feet, only too eager to be away from that wicked shadow she called Hubert. 

He crouched at her throne, meaning to resume his cleaning of her boots, but she took his leash and tugged so he had to look up at her. A smile curled her lips. “Well done, Metodey.” 

He quivered with gratitude. She released the leash and he dove for her boots, lapping up the sweet, fetid taste of victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	6. Rodrigue/F!Byleth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone was celebrating but Rodrigue, but Byleth believes even he deserves a breath of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Bia! I know you love Rodrigue so I hope I've done him justice. You are a true visionary with your deep explorations of the cannon.

Rodrigue watched Felix arguing with his childhood friends across the long expanse of the meeting hall. Only a few of the chandeliers lighting the hall had survived the assault on the monastery, but they provided enough light for this one night of revelry, this one night of celebrating the fact that they were all still somehow alive and together. 

Sylvain laughed at some remark and Felix glared daggers at him. Ingrid sighed, shoving Sylvain's shoulder, even as Dimitri pondered the exchange, looking to Dedue for help. 

They weren't kids anymore, Rodrigue reminded himself, but every so often he caught a glimpse of those children who'd tangled themselves about his legs, playing at being knights. They were the real thing now, each one a laudable fighter, brave and dauntless and battling to preserve the entire realm.

His heart ached with pride.

“Duke Fraldarius,” a soft voice called beside him. He saw the professor smiling at him, holding up a cup of blood red wine. 

“Professor,” he said with a nod.

“This is the wine from Fraldarius, is it not?” Byleth said. 

He accepted a cup from her and took a sip. He could taste the ice and cold of Fraldarius in the crispness of the wine. “Yes, I believe it is.”

“It's quite good,” Byleth said. “We are fortunate to have it. Especially now.”

The implications hung heavy between them, souring the sweetness of the wine. 

“I apologize,” Byleth said. 

“No, it is only the truth,” Rodrigue said.

“Even so, there are times when it is better to set the truth aside for a moment and allow yourself a breath of happiness.”

Rodrigue paused, considering this. “A lovely sentiment,” he said.

Byleth smiled, her usually impassive face softened by the gesture. It made her look mysterious and lovely, like a flower yet unnamed. She raised her glass and he clinked his against it.

“A toast,” she said, “to this breath of happiness.” 

“To happiness,” he agreed.

#

Rodrigue grunted as Byleth shoved him against the wall. Her room swayed around him, partly from the force of her shove, partly from the wine swirling in his brain.

She fumbled with the clasp of his cloak and the garment fell to the floor in a heap. Her own cloak followed. He grabbed for her tunic, tossing it across her room. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric wrapped around them. They made him pause for a beat. How long had it been since he'd been with anyone? How long had he been focused entirely on Dimitri and Fodlan and this gods cursed war that would probably kill them all? 

Too long, he decided, and grabbed her waist, yanking her to him even as his head lowered to suck and kiss at the skin along her collar bone. Her tits heaved against him as she gasped from the pressure of his mouth. He fumbled, tugging at the wrap around her chest without any pretense of dignity. It fell away with a final pull and he groped for her tits. One was enough to fill his hand; he massaged and squeezed, plucking at a nipple. 

Byleth chuckled even as she gasped. “It's not fair if I'm the only one naked,” she rasped. She pulled him along to her bed, stripping him of his shirt before she started working at her own pants. He rushed to follow, fumbling with laces as his mind floated in the soft current of this impossible night. 

When he finally got free of his clothing, he looked back up to find the professor naked, her heavy breasts even more striking contrasted with the curve of her waist, a languorous curl that swayed out at her hips. He ground his teeth to avoid gaping.

Byleth smirked at his reaction, shoving him onto her bed and straddling his hips. She took his cock in her hand, stroking it as she perched over him, her other hand on his chest pressing him into the mattress. He was helpless in her grip; it sent a thrill shivering through his cock. 

“Allow me to demonstrate,” she said before lowering onto his cock.

#

Rodrigue bit back a gasp when he woke. He turned his head slowly and found the professor cuddled against him, naked and dozing. She lay on his arm, her skin warm against his chest.

 _Goddess, it was real._

The promise of a headache tapped behind his eyes. His stomach curled, from dread more than sickness. What was he doing here? There was a war going on. They were supposed to be planning, preparing. _He_ was supposed to be helping Dimitri lead their ragtag group through this crisis. Yet here he was, fucking around like a teenager with nothing to lose. 

He carefully wiggled his arm, trying to extract it from beneath the professor. She grumbled and he froze, but she seemed to go back to sleep a moment later. He squirmed some more, getting all the way to his wrist before Byleth finally woke.

“Hey,” she said, “are you leaving?”

“I... have my duties,” he said. 

“So do I,” she said. Her fingers trailed through the thin hairs on his chest. “Stay,” she said.

“I shouldn't.”

“Why not?”

“I have business to attend to,” he said. 

“Let someone else take care of it for today.” Her fingers trailed down his torso, threatening to stray lower. 

He grabbed her wrist. “There is no one else.”

Byleth stopped, looking into his eyes rather than down his body. “You're wrong.” He blinked and she went on: “You see them as children, but they're not. They're adults. Capable adults. You don't need to watch their every step anymore.”

“I want to help.”

“I know,” she said. “But you can't help if you're worn and tattered yourself.”

He scowled and she ran her thumb over his lips. “A breath of happiness,” she said. “Even we are allowed a breath.” 

When he met her eyes, he felt the tension melt from his muscles. She was firm, insistent, and yet horribly gentle all the same. He wanted to stay captured in her gaze. “A breath,” he said.

She smiled, giving him a little nod. Her lips grazed his. “A breath,” she said, and kissed him harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


End file.
